


Strawberry Frosting and Spiked Punch

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: Fuzzy Antlers, Fuzzy Ears, and Fuzzy Feelings [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (eren isnt drunk i promise his mother would skin him alive and use him as a rug), (mikasa kinda wishes it was though ooPS), ... there are... sooo.... many breaks, Flashbacks, Fluffy Ending, Guilt, ITS HER BIRTHDAY EVERYWHERE BUT LIKE 2 PLACES RN SO GOOD ENOUGH, JUST ONE IT WAS LIKE LESS THAN A WEEK AGO FROM THIS POINT IN TIME, Light Angst, Mikasa has feelings in this one, Promise, SPOILERS FOR THE MAIN FIC, Underage Drinking, accused relationship, but thats brief and background, happy birthday mikasa, i was literally just talking about mamakasa with acharyadiako anyway so here, marshcoco dubbed this as acceptable to post btw, mikasa just wants everyone to be happy bc shes a big ole mama bear and i love her, the drinking is more referenced and not too heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're all angsty teenagers; they have too much shit on their minds to even focus on something, or even someone else.</p><p>That doesn't stop Mikasa from internalizing it all and trying to fix everyone else while she's doing exactly what they are.</p><p>... It's not the birthday she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Frosting and Spiked Punch

**Author's Note:**

> HOLD UP: THIS SPOILS SOME ASPECTS OF "I Kissed a Deer and I Liked It" SO THAT IS A WARNING.  
> If you don't care about spoiling shit, then go ahead.
> 
> Here is the [blog for this whole AU](http://deermarco.tumblr.com/). Here is just [the art](http://deermarco.tumblr.com/tagged/art) of it. (It's JeanMarco centric)
> 
> One day I will actually write the chapter (one day soon, I promise), but until then, suffer with me and [MarshCoCo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt) on all this pain I'm releasing.  
> I don't know where the hell it's even coming from.
> 
> I don't usually write in present tense and the actual fic will be in past tense, but my fingers have been playing around with it lately, so whatever. Hope it's not too much of a bother.
> 
> For some JM cutes, click the other fics in this [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/393112).  
> And if you want this to be a little more hurtful, go (re)read [Smile for Me, Baby](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5875822) and focus on some of the things that Marco notices. They are referenced here. That's all I'm gonna say about it here, but if you want, you can ask about it through my [tumblr](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com).

“You don’t think I saw her, do you?” Though it’s asked like a question, his words are an accusation, but he knows how to phrase and speak it so well that it doesn’t sound like he is offended. He is strong in mind and in tongue and Mikasa sometimes envies that, but she knows that as long as she has him close to her heart and by her side than she can lean on his skills when they are needed, as he leans on hers.

 

She shifts her stance, moving to put less pressure against the wall and she ignores the fact that his eyes immediately go to study her, to see where she lies on a scale of comfort for this topic. She takes a moment to think out her words, how he would, but in less of a rushed, practiced motion. She can feel them on her lips before she says them, perfecting them to make sure they are the right ones to put in her place without lying or hurting before she lets him hear them. “I do. I believe you did see her.” These words are the ones that took just barely less than a full minute to conjure and still, he digests them as if they were her normal speech and not her trying to mimic him.

 

His eyes don’t narrow. He doesn’t let a pause fill the space between their dialogue. He is in pace with time and the speed of the real world and he is not slowing down for anyone; not even herself. “But you don’t think I saw exactly what I think I saw.”

 

She gives up trying to be her best friend for the time being and straightens up, reaching for his hand. “What I think,” she starts with a simple twitch of her eyebrows as she pulls him towards the kitchen. “Is that we both need more punch.” He follows, though she can see his eyes rolling and he earns himself a harder tug for that. Hopefully he will forget their conversation with a little of the juice that Eren probably spiked.

 

Hopefully. Armin can be a little hard to read sometimes and often times it’s only Eren who can tell what’s going through his mind, sometimes with only a glance at his expression, no matter how blank.

 

With another thread of envy running through her mind, Mikasa decides she needs some of that punch for herself, as well.

 

* * *

 

They make it to the kitchen pretty easily, as it isn’t too packed and they really weren’t that far from it in the first place. Their house is small and it’s kind of a good thing that Mikasa doesn’t have too many friends to clutter around the oversized furniture. Besides, Eren had told her as he leaned over her shoulder as she stared at the incredibly small pile of invitations, there’s less to clean this way.

 

She had sighed and said nothing as Armin wrinkled his nose and tried to argue if it would really be that clean by the time Sasha and Connie had left. It turned out that a smaller party was better, anyway. People seemed to be having a good time, all already knowing each other and dancing and socializing.

 

Aside from Armin. When he was around Jean he always seemed to bring a certain topic up and it spoiled his mood like left out food. She didn’t know what to do other than distract him or shove Eren in his direction.

 

It’s her birthday - she doesn’t have time to pity herself.

 

As she pours some punch for both of them, refilling their (recyclable!) solo cups, she looks up with an attempted half-smile. It falls, her straining going to waste when she notices that he is no longer looking in her direction, but instead at her cake.

 

“It looks good.” He tells her, eyes roving over the pale pink strawberry frosting and bits of ocean blue (but still strawberry flavored) that spell out her name with wishes of a wonderful and happy birthday. Her smile is less forced as she, too, stares at it with fondness.

 

She turns back to the punch and sets his cup next to him on the counter. He doesn’t pick it up. “Yeah,” she takes a sip and stares at him pointedly until he does as well with a small huff. “Carla’s great at baking cakes.”

 

She was right about the punch; it doesn’t taste of _only_ _just_ flavor packets and sugar. She takes a larger drink, knowing this.

 

Armin is staring at her again, at her words and Carla’s name. He knows she doesn’t call her mom - she was adopted too late to comfortably do that - but that doesn’t seem to dampen his curiosity about the subject. Under his gaze she feels like she is a test rat and with every planned word that leaves his mouth, she knows she is being studied. This isn’t new and has lost it’s way of making her tense, but it only continues to happen more the older they get.

 

She pours herself more punch and wonders what it is that he, Eren, and Carla will be giving her later that night when the house is clean and they are cutting into pink and blue.

 

And Armin finally looks away, gaze turning sour as he lifts his cup to his lips and stares into the living room.

 

* * *

 

After Armin leaves to make a phone call (likely just to be alone on the back porch), Mikasa moves back to the living room and lets her gaze sweep around, taking in what everyone was doing. She was probably going to end up sitting on the couch and watching everyone do their own things, but she couldn’t help the urge to just check up on everyone before she settled.

 

Eren is on one of the footstools, jerking his body all around in a way that makes her assume he’s dancing, despite it being offbeat and bizarre. Shaking her head and trying to school her raised eyebrows into something more scolding, she makes her way to pull him off the stool and get him to try something less spaztic. However, she stops when he pauses, hops off, chugs half his solo cup, and grabs someone at random and begins to jump around with them. His moves are less hectic and easier to follow and she no longer sees himself damaging someone or the furniture as easy, so she moves on.

 

Closer to the corner of the room, Sasha and Connie are talking. Sasha is either drunk or tired, as she is leaning all her weight on the front of Connie, forearm propped up on his shoulder as she crowds into his space, hair (not in a pony tail today) dangling in front of his face. He seems to be unbothered, nodding occasionally at what she is saying and talking back to her as if she isn’t minutes away from falling asleep on top of him. She makes wave-y hand motions all over the place and he catches her each time she threatens to fall over.

 

Mikasa doesn’t feel as if she would be in place with them at the moment. Their conversation looks a little more intimate than what she wants to intrude upon. She doesn’t have enough punch inside of her to feel the need to interrupt the two in whatever they are talking about (but knowing them, it’s probably something generic and wouldn’t matter if she tried to join in, but she just doesn’t feel it right now).

 

Behind them, actually in the corner, stands Jean, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes tired, bored.

 

He doesn’t look like he is enjoying himself and that the most fun he’s had so far is just listen to Sasha and Connie ramble on while Sasha drank herself into forgetting personal space. After a moment he notices her watching and his whole body turns with him to look at her, arms relaxing but not falling, eyebrows going up in question. Even still, there’s that little downturn of unhappiness and his eyes aren’t any brighter than when he was staring at their friends.

 

She remembers inviting him and how he didn’t look happy then, either.

 

* * *

 

 _She caught him in the hallway, between classes, slipping away from Eren and Armin for just a moment to give him the envelope. On it, in pretty calligraphy, was_ **_Jean_** _. The lines were too thick in places, too thin in others. She had wanted to write each letter herself, but Armin had watched and helped. He was farther along with the skill than she was, his hand abnormally steadier than hers when it came to writing (even if not when it was holding other things than a pen, or shifting into a defensive stance). It was also his ink._

 

_Mostly he was just excited that she liked the artform just as much as he did._

 

_Jean took the letter between his fingers and frowned at it before it clicked and he looked up to nod at her, reaching to slip it into his bag, the zipper already half way open as usual. He stared at her as she stayed in place, waiting for his attention before she spoke again. “You can bring Bertholdt if you want.”_

 

 _Pausing, hand still over his shoulder with his fingers stilling after just starting to pull back, Jean furrowed his eyebrows. He frowned again, hand dropping to rest by his side, and started to speak, “What? Why would he…” He paused all of a sudden, eyes going wide as if he had forgotten about_ **_Bertholdt_** _, and backtracked, voice surprisingly full of shivers then, eyes flicking all over her face, like it was hard to focus on it. “O-Oh, yeah… About that… Bertholdt doesn’t… Bert… He gets kind of, uh, shy, you know?” He made a face at his own words. “He gets really… nervous around new people.”_

 

_Jean was… lying to her._

 

_And… the more she stared at him, wondering what could be the reason for his lies, the more he started to twitch, knowing she had caught him red-handed. She narrowed her eyes at him, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Jean.”_

 

_Instead of relaxing him like she thought it would when she gave him the out, Jean only tensed up further, shoulders jumping at her statement. He gave her a wary, still nervous look. “I’m your friend,” he stated, as if it was some kind of offering or excuse._

 

_“That doesn’t mean I’m forcing you to come,” she reminded him, eyeing his odd behavior, wondering what she could possibly say to rid him of it. Jean was her friend - she didn’t like seeing him unhappy. “The only one who absolutely has to come is Eren, but that’s only because the party is at our house and he has nowhere else to go.”_

 

_That seemed to do the trick because, as he followed each of her words carefully, hanging onto each one, he seemed to be more relieved and finally gave her a small smile before ducking his head, expression bashful._

 

_“Don’t worry… I’ll be there.”_

 

* * *

  


Like he promised, Jean is there. Mikasa makes her way over to him, chewing on her words and debating on what to say, to make him more comfortable, or cheerful. She doesn’t care which as long as it’s one of them and he isn’t pouting in the corner anymore. She is still thinking on what exactly she wants to tell him when she stands next to him, copying the pose he makes as she, too, leans against the wall, staring back at him.

 

“Hey, birthday girl,” he welcomes with a slight twitch of his lips, up on the right side, where it always moves.

 

In return she smiles back, warmth in her chest when she can see him happy to see her; as he likely hadn’t been talked to all night. He is flourishing in the attention and suddenly that warmth is doused by the cold realization that he had been left alone and right now is the only time he has likely smiled a real smile all night - just because someone is finally talking to him.

 

Why… Is she really… Does she… Do _they_ …

 

Has she really never noticed how her friends are so… upset?

 

Is it because of her?

 

Jean interrupts her thoughts with a rough chuckle and uses his chin to nod in Eren’s direction, where he is standing (thankfully barefoot) atop one of the armchairs and violently lipsinging to whatever is on (which is all instrumental? what is he singing?) into some solo cup as someone keeps climbing up and trying to take the cup from him, annoyance clear on their face. With a quick glance she notices that Armin has come back inside and he grins at the display for a second before rolling his eyes, putting on his “serious face” and jogging to help get Eren down.

 

She wants to help, but when she notices that Jean is still watching, but no longer laughing or smiling, the desire to move away dwindles. Jean needs her here, talking to him, and keeping him company.

 

_“I’m your friend.”_

 

But that’s only if he really, truly wants to be here.

 

He doesn’t and Mikasa knows it.

 

“You can leave early if you want to, you know.” Mikasa reminds him, her words perhaps seeming to come out of nowhere as he looks surprised for a moment, vulnerable. His face is open, as is his mouth, and his eyes are wide.

 

After a moment, fingers quivering against his arms, his expression fogs over again, but he gives a half smile, the right side higher than the left, as he looks to stare at the ground. It’s that same smile he gives when they all make plans to do something after school, when they (usually himself and Eren) make up after a fight, the one he lefts loose when someone says a really dumb pun, something she knows he enjoys even if he says he hates them. Now, he says nothing, but Mikasa smiles back, even if he can’t see it, because he isn’t unhappy and that’s what’s important right now.

 

* * *

 

“You lied to those guys at the party, earlier,” Mikasa starts, elbowing Eren in the ribs, “You actually really suck at video games,” and she uses her _Prancer_ to shove his bike off the map. She has won the last three races and had messed up earlier in this last one, but she was not about to let him win. He had somehow crawled his way up to second place, but hell if she was gonna let him stay there.

 

Eren growls, shooting a glare at her as he tries to smack his controller into her knee as the map helper pulls him back onto the map with a fee of three coins. She jerks her body out of the way just in time to hear it hit the couch with a thump, the jostle almost making her become victim to a random green turtle shell. She keeps her sigh of relief internalized, so Eren doesn’t get cocky at how he almost made her drop at least a place or two.

 

Once he’s finally back on the map, just barely behind Pink Gold Peach in fifth place (falling off the map is brutal - he went from almost first, but second place to sixth), he scrunches his nose and pulls his whole body into a tightly wound ball on the couch. It helps him focus, or so he likes to say. “Shut the hell up, Mikasa.”

 

Allowing a large smirk to grow on her face, Mikasa passes the finish line for the last time and drops her controller in her lap in victory. With a puff of satisfaction that she didn’t know she was holding in until she won, she shoves her face into Eren’s own and taunts, “Make me, _loser_.”

 

The next thing she knows is that the cake that she hadn’t yet got to finish and was waiting for her on the coffee table is in her face, smushed against her cheek, dripping down her neck, and falling into her shirt.

 

She’s not even mad.

 

No, how could she be? When Eren is playing Mario Kart with her, Armin watching beside them and pointing out tips for Eren to catch up (maybe that’s how he made it all the way to second place), cake waiting for her after she leaves Eren in the video game, pixelated dust. How could she be even the slightest bit upset when Carla is shouting at Eren and even though he looks sheepish, he’s giving her a coy grin, something that tells her “I won this round” even when he did _not_? How could she be anything but so, unbelievably delighted when she hears Armin laughing full-heartedly at all of this, his sorrowful eyes and mysterious sights left forgotten at the party?

 

How could she be anything but thanking her blessings and smiling wider than she has in months when she’s surrounded by her warm, happy family at her very own special birthday celebration, just with the four of them?

  
Everyone is together, as they should be, and happy, as she wants them to be. It’s the best gift she could have gotten.

**Author's Note:**

> Told you that the ending was fluffy.
> 
> Special thanks to: [@c0cunt](http://c0cunt.tumblr.com) for helping me decide if this was too vague or too spoilery and [@awwdree](http://awdree.tumblr.com) for telling me if parts were alright/cute/occ.
> 
> Special thanks to you, for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Please don't hesitate to leave a kudos and/or a comment (even if anonymous).
> 
> This is my [snk tumblr](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com) if you want it. It has a lot of JeanMarco, though.


End file.
